Wicked Games
by Pardon the Insanity
Summary: It was supposed to be imaginary, a game of make-believe, and nothing more. But in every lie was a shred of truth, and slowly they both had to realize that there was more to the fabricated bonds they had allowed to pass between them. Ulquihime
1. Chapter 1

Yeyness, new story! This has been in the works foreeevah... because school hates me and wants to thwart all attempts of stress relief, I'm pretty sure. But I guess the most important thing now is that I'm finally getting it up. I believe there will be three chapters... but it could end up being more. It depends. In any case, this first chapter is pretty long, so hopefully it'll tide everybody over for a while.

And yes, I did title this after that song, and yes, I realize that the style of the song is completely inappropriate... for anything to do with Bleach (which I do not own, as everybody already knows). All the same, it was pointed out that the WORDS were fitting. So I'm focusing on that. _

Finally, before I complete my yapping, I must say a huge thank you to Hinodeh for helping me with the characterizations and to Ashley for again betaing. I really appreciate all the time and assistance more than I can adequately express.

Alright, I'm done now.

* * *

It meant nothing.

That was the only reason Ulquiorra could sit still as the girl drifted deeper into sleep, her body relaxing further against him until he could even feel her slight movements as she breathed. He tried to focus on that, the soft inhales and exhales that were the only sounds to fill the silence of the room, and not the hand she had fisting into the fabric of his jacket.

But it was too distracting, that foreign weight against his chest. He considered the hand for a moment, feeling its warmth seep through the material and into his skin. It was a strange sensation, balanced between being pleasant and uncomfortable, but he believed that he had started to acclimate to it over the past few weeks; this was not the first time her arm had been draped across him.

Although, Ulquiorra vaguely wondered if that could really be viewed as progress. To come to a point where it was no longer decidedly strange to allow her to be so close was perhaps not such a good thing. His gaze drifted from her hand to where her head leaned awkwardly against his shoulder. Even though the room was dim, her hair still seemed vibrant and impossibly bright where it fell across his white uniform, something that had become increasingly distracting lately. That, too, was a thought that lingered uncomfortably in the back of his mind.

Of course, there was no reason to react in such a way. Perhaps it was true that somebody who witnessed the scene could find something intimate about it, but that was not the reality of the situation. While he did not necessarily follow orders explicitly, Ulquiorra had never acted outside of what he perceived to be Aizen-sama's intent, and this instance was no different. He was simply performing the duty that had been assigned to him.

And that had been to watch Orihime Inoue and ensure her health so that she would be of use when called upon. Although he had accepted this task as he did with everything else asked of him, Ulquiorra had found the idea both tedious and dull; few things sounded more unpleasant than being the caretaker for a human girl.

That had held true, for a while. There was much about her that disgusted him, from how easily swayed she was by her own emotions to how possessively she clung to merely the thought of her nakama. Yet there had been something that countered those feelings from the beginning, something that had lit a spark of curiosity that only grew with every occasion he saw her.

She was young and idealistic, but he had come to realize that she was not necessarily naïve and by no means simple. His classification of her, regardless of her unique powers, had needed revision as she had demonstrated more strength than he would have expected given her circumstances. He had seen it in the façade she had presented when easily speaking loyalties he knew were false, and when she had actually dared to strike him even though she must have known what repercussions she risked.

No, she had not been what he had expected her to be, and perhaps that could in part explain why he was currently allowing her to do something as absurd as sleep on him. Even so, he had to wonder if he would have allowed himself to feel any curiosity about her in the first place if he had known it would come to this.

It had started a month after the attempt to rescue her had failed. At first she had cried when she had believed nobody could hear her, clearly attempting to muffle the sound in the cushions of the couch in her room. And then the tears had stopped, and with it everything else. She had become silent and still, and he could not help but note that she, the one living creature in that whole world, was suddenly the most lifeless.

She continued to eat when her meals were brought, and she followed those few and trivial orders that were directed to her, so it had been difficult for Ulquiorra to pin down exactly why he had nonetheless felt that he was failing in his duties. True, the color of her skin had lost some of its warmth, but overall her physical health was fairly stable. There should have been no reason for him to feel that he was overlooking anything.

That was when she had finally spoken. He had grown so used to her silence while she ate that even her whisper had seemed to shatter the stillness.

"Ulquiorra, may I ask a favor of you?"

When he had not replied, she continued, setting her fork down with measured movements that revealed an amount of unease. "I think… I'm ill."

That comment had confused him, as every physical clue seemed to contradict it. "You do not appear to be so," he had finally said, half question and half statement.

For a long moment she had watched him before shaking her head. "I do not mean my body." Slowly she had raised her hand, laying it across her chest – where he had pointed to her heart a few weeks before. "I mean inside. Here."

That reply had done nothing to make the situation any clearer to him; if anything, it was suddenly even more ungraspable than before. Perhaps she had realized this, because she sighed and lowered her hand back to her lap, folding it together with the other one. "I miss my friends. And my home. And my freedom. I feel… alone."

"You have been alone since you were brought here."

"I had the hope that somehow they would save me, even though I didn't want them to try. My memories of them kept me company, and the knowledge that I had done what I could to protect them allowed me to look forward. I couldn't hold onto that when they left; I do not have anything now. I feel empty."

That, at least, he had believed he could understand somewhat; the only difference was that he could not remember what it was like to feel otherwise.

Silence had spread between them as he considered her, noting that she had raised her gaze to meet his. It had been a long time since she had looked at him so clearly, without the shadows of her hair or the dark line of her lashes obscuring her wide eyes. The shine they had once held had diminished, but the light had not been completely extinguished; he had spent enough time watching and analyzing her to notice that it was still there, weak and frail though it was.

"What connection does this have to the favor you mentioned?" he had asked, only bringing it up because he wondered if her answer would allow him to understand how she had managed to retain even a flicker of hope.

She had finally looked away, down at the fingers she had woven together. "Have you ever heard of make-believe, Ulquiorra?"

"No." Again, he found himself trying to think of what her words could possibly have to do with her first comment. It reminded him of how frustrating he had found speaking with her to be when she had first been brought to Hueco Mundo; she had seemed just as inane then.

"It's kind of like a game," she had explained slowly. "I used to play it all the time when I was little. I would imagine that I was an astronaut in another galaxy, or a pirate out on the ocean, or a robot princess who ruled over an entire country." The corner of her mouth pulled up slightly in what might have been the touch of a smile, but even he had seen the obvious sorrow in the motion. "It's pretending to be something else, somewhere else."

He had made no effort to make sense of that statement. "Again, I fail to see what relevance this has."

"I would like you to allow me to make-believe."

She had spoken the words so quietly that he had almost missed them, too distracted by his own thoughts. For a moment he watched the nervous movements of her fingers before looking away. "That matter is of no relevance to me; if you wish to believe in something false, I can have no influence either way."

"That isn't true, and that's why I asked." She had stood and approached him cautiously before stopping, leaving a wary distance between them. "It's not just believing something. That is part of it, of course, but it's only a daydream like that."

"Then what else is missing?"

"It's like… an act. Or a charade. And that's something I cannot do alone."

Those things she had spoken of were so foreign, so incomprehensible. Was it just her, or were all humans as strange as she was, full of such odd ideas? "What do you think I could possibly do to help you?"

She had seemed to consider this for a moment, as though she were carefully trying to piece together her words. "I think that… if I didn't feel so alone, perhaps I could forget how it hurts. If I could pretend that I was not a prisoner and not so far from everybody I love, maybe I could hold myself together a little longer." Her voice had grown soft, almost directed at herself, before she shook her head and continued. "Anyway, all I would ask is that you overlook anything I say or do that might seem a little strange, because that would shatter the illusion."

"And you think something as insubstantial as that would benefit you?"

Without a moment's hesitation, she had nodded. "Yes."

He had turned from her then, walking toward the door before replying as he left the room. "Very well."

So in that way he had discovered what it was that had fallen through the cracks, that not only did her physical health need to be considered but her emotional health as well. It had seemed quite obvious once he had become aware of it; with such vivid and strongly felt emotions, of course some sort of maintenance would be required.

For that reason, he had granted her request. She had identified the source of the problem for him and had even gone so far as to explain the solution. With this knowledge, it would have been irresponsible for him to ignore the obvious course of action.

At least, that was what he told himself. Regardless of how easily he could get everything to fit into a logical explanation, of how simple it was to make a clear connection to how this did, in fact, fall within his duties, he was uncomfortable with it. If this reason had really been the end of his thoughts on the matter, that would have been one thing. There was no fault in doing what he could to follow his orders. But that was not where it ended, and he knew that the orders were more of an excuse than a motive for his actions.

Because, ultimately, it all had to do with the fact that she fascinated him. She spoke and acted in ways that he never would have tolerated – or likely even seen – in others, and somehow that had drawn him to her. Yet it only seemed that the more he tried to understand her, the more unfathomable she became.

And in the long line of things about her that were mystifying, this 'act' was merely the most recent. It still seemed as ridiculous now as it had to begin with; he did not see what could be gained by tricking one's self into believing something other than what was there. It seemed infantile to try to retreat to false comfort, especially when such delusions could be so easily crushed and scattered. To exhaust so much energy on something false was both wasteful and useless. Just believing something did not make it real, and there had to be consequences when reality was once again faced.

Again, he considered her careless position, so vulnerable against the strength he could easily call upon at any moment. It truly must have been something, the illusions she had created over the past two months, that she could so simply disregard the danger she had to know he posed.

But perhaps these imaginings were not as feeble and ineffective as he had believed them to be. The ability of Aizen-sama's zanpakuto was to create illusions, after all, and it had been the use of that power that had allowed him to accomplish his goals in Soul Society. And if that were the case, then great power could be hidden in a false reality.

The thought did nothing to settle the vague unease in Ulquiorra's mind, and, if anything, only increased it. For if he accepted that something that was imagined could actually have an effect on what was real, it opened a new question: how would things be changed if he allowed her to continue with her game of make-believe?

* * *

The fabric under her cheek was warm, and it was that fact more than anything that let Orihime know that Ulquiorra had left again; it was something she had noted weeks earlier, that her warmth could not entirely chase away the coolness of his body.

She was not surprised, of course, because she had not expected him to stay. He never had before, and she supposed it would be both irrational and foolish to think that he did not have other things to see to. Surely, there were many responsibilities he had to perform as an espada.

Pressing out wrinkles from her clothes as she sat up, Orihime pushed the thought from her mind as she had done numerous times before. She did not want to think of what things he was ordered to do for Aizen, because the thought was too grim, opened up the possibility of too many horrors, even when no more substantial than half-formed ideas.

So instead she wondered how long Ulquiorra stayed as she half-consciously made her way to the vanity in the bathroom. There was no sunset or sunrise to mark time, yet there was clearly a routine to the activities within Las Noches. Did he stay just long enough to ensure that she was asleep? Perhaps he had not been gone long before she awoke? Or did it vary on each occasion?

As she ran a brush through her sleep mussed hair, she had to smile slightly at her reflection. Again, having such silly and useless thoughts. And yet, this only made her smile widen. It had been so long since she had been able to think of such things, something that had no meaning, that carried no weight. To have a thought that was not shadowed by her failure to really protect those who in turn had failed to save her.

Orihime had denied herself that for a long time. A month, Ulquiorra had told her later, once she had somehow broken through the sorrow and found that life had continued. It had only been a month, but it had felt like centuries, millennia, in that timeless world. Every waking moment had been spent going over the battles, the choices, wondering if one change here would have caused a difference in the outcome there, and every time she slept she relived that final moment, when her nakama had been forced to turn their backs and leave.

It had felt like her life had ended in that moment; it was therefore not so strange that she had refused to allow herself to think of anything else. Could there even be anything else, when everything had gone? What was left but memories and regrets?

Being in Hueco Mundo had always been difficult, from the moment the darkness had embraced her as she had followed Ulquiorra through the garganta. There was no laughter or warmth or life. The moon teased her by spilling watery light into her room, enough for her to be haunted with recollections of the sun but not enough to chase away the shadows that had seemed to close in around her. Yet she had somehow managed to brush away the loneliness and fear because she had known that she had done her part to ensure the safety of her friends, just as they would have done for her.

But everything had changed when they came. Hope had soared in her heart, even as her fear had increased to match it. It had been like a light sparking in the darkness, shining the previously impossible chance of escape into the nothingness that had stretched before her. Yet it had come with a price, because it had also illuminated every fear that had been hidden in the shadows, giving them a shape so that they could no longer be ignored.

The two forces had pulled at her, tugging her emotions in different directions until it left her almost feeling breathless. Everything about the rescue attempt seemed to have happened so slowly that it was torturous and yet too quickly to be absorbed – it had been with a shock that, finding herself suddenly surrounded by their allies, she realized that she was nearly free.

Of course, then everything had fallen apart. There had not even been time for Orihime to follow the events that had found her returned to Aizen, to where it was as though nothing had changed at all. It was like the closing of a door just as she had reached it, and even Kurosaki-kun's appearance had been unable to return her smothered hope. How could she have had hope in that situation, when she had seen the results of his last battle with Ulquiorra? The differences in their reiatsu as they stood before each other had been obvious; it would take releasing all control over his inner-hollow for Kurosaki-kun to be stronger, and she knew that he would do everything within his power to prevent that from happening.

So while there had been no joy when others had come to tell Kurosaki-kun that contact with Soul Society had been reestablished and that the battle to protect Karakura urgently needed assistance, she had been relieved. At least in that fight he would not be alone.

He had tried to refuse, saying that the whole point in venturing to Hueco Mundo had been to save her and that he couldn't leave without doing so. But she had known him well enough to see that, despite his words, the situation in Karakura weighed heavily on him; his family was there.

Somehow she had been able to force herself to speak the words that tore her soul, to tell him to leave. Everything inside her wanted to give in to his objections, spoken with such conviction and determination, but she had made herself continue against him, her instincts, her heart. She said that she would not want her life to come at the cost of so many others, which was true. And when that had been unable to convince him, she had said that there was no reason to believe she was in imminent danger when she was still of use to Aizen, which had been a lie she silently begged him to forgive if revealed.

Apparently that had been enough though, for he had given her a long look before cursing and following those who had come for him. She had hardly noticed the distant touches of reiatsu disappearing as she had stared into the emptiness where he had just stood. Her mind was full of that last look, of the regret and apology that had been so clear in his brown eyes, that the only thing that managed to shake her from the memory was the moment his reiatsu finally vanished.

That was the instant when it had seemed like there was nothing else that existed beyond herself. The flame, that little light that had shown so briefly, was completely gone, yet it had still left her with that one image of all her fears. She was then piercingly aware of the desolation of her situation and of every terror that lingered just a breath away, and she had felt herself break under the weight of that knowledge.

It would have been better if they had never come.

At first, it had felt like she would never be able to stop crying. It was like every beat of her heart had been painful and labored, every movement just reminding her that there was nothing now but existing. Eventually even that had become too exhausting to continue and the tears stopped, but she had still felt them pooling silently in her heart.

What had changed still escaped her, even though she had considered that issue many times. She had been so completely and totally immersed in her sorrow that she could not imagine how she managed to break free from it, or why she had done so. Perhaps it had simply been the fact that she was acting so far outside of her character; she had continued her life even after her brother had died, and the crushing reality of that situation certainly could not have been any better than the one she currently suffered.

Sighing slightly, Orihime set the brush down and made her way back into the other room, sitting down distractedly at the table. It was always at that point in her thoughts that she found it difficult to continue. While the recollections of the pain were definitely not pleasant, they had at least been understandable. What she had done afterwards, however, continued to baffle her.

It had not taken her long to realize that simply trying to overlook her situation would not be enough for her to ignore it. In the past she had never focused on herself, yet that was the only option she had been given, and it consequently made her concentrate on every sorrow and every regret, on every fault she saw in herself. So if that were the case, she had thought that perhaps having some way to direct her energy elsewhere would allow her to regain some amount of peace, regardless of how little she felt she deserved it.

Her friends had always teased her about her imagination, and, for her part, Orihime had never been able to contradict them. She had always daydreamed too much, always been too quick to dismiss reality. So, really, it probably made sense that her imagination was the first retreat she thought of. It was just missing one element.

That happened to be that she needed somebody to share it with. Her usual daydreams were fine to keep to herself, but this was not like her thoughts from the past. This required at least the sense of something tangible, something that could manage to anchor her in reality.

She had known that there was only one option, one person she could ask, and that knowledge had made it easy to keep any false sparks of hope from truly igniting. For him to even listen to the entirety of her request without dismissing it for its foolishness had seemed unobtainable enough, so it had come as an incredible surprise when Ulquiorra had not only listened but accepted.

Again her thoughts drifted to him, although Orihime supposed that it would be difficult, if not altogether impossible, to keep from doing so. Her time was now measured by the intervals between meals, when she was left with nothing but the weight of her own thoughts and memories. It seemed unlikely that she would have been able to keep herself from falling apart without that routine, those few breaks, to stabilize her.

Yet, she wondered whether she should be thankful that she had managed to hold onto her sanity in a place that seemed to be built on cold madness, or if she should have been disturbed by the fact that she relied so completely on him. Because she knew, when she allowed herself to think about it, that there was something undeniably wrong about depending on somebody without a heart to help her maintain her own.

If things had remained as they were at the beginning, perhaps it could have been overlooked. That tense distance, even when they sat across from each other at the table or side by side on the sofa, had so clearly spoken of their respective roles, of the guard and his charge. At that time he had done as she had asked, never questioning the false friendliness she had tried to force between them, and she had been content with the normalcy in treating him as some casual acquaintance. It should have been enough.

But somehow things had changed and then it was not so simple, not so easy to dismiss. That line that had been drawn so clearly that it had been impossible to overlook even in her illusions had somehow blurred, changing unpredictably from day to day, encounter to encounter. In the long silences that punctuated her day, she could not avoid questioning the choices she made when Ulquiorra was there, yet this unease had never yet been enough to change her actions.

Because, in the end, whether or not she should feel guilty about it did not matter. Principles that were stringently followed when safe did not have the same application when surrounded by terrors, and she was willing to do whatever was necessary to keep from falling apart. If reaching over the shifting divide between herself and her captor was what was required, then she would face the repercussions later if she could be allowed the comfort _now_.

So once again, as she had on many other mornings, Orihime scattered the thoughts from her mind and instead considered the simpler, easier issue of what she would be having for breakfast.


	2. Chapter 2

So, first of all I must apologize for the wait. While I'd like to think the next chapter will be posted sooner, I'm not entirely sure. That being the case, I'm presenting what I had thought about posting as two chapters as one this time, so it's a nice twelve pages that is hopefully adequate for the moment. Although, I'd like to say that I attempted to update this on Saturday, but the site's been all funky.

Anyway, I'd hate to be a review whore, buuuut all the same I would super appreciate some reviews. I am very thankful to those who have done so already, because, obviously, such things are really nice to receive. :) But I also like hearing people's comments because then I know what things are enjoyed, which allows me to carry them over into future stories. And it can help me become a better writer, which would be quite awesome. Yeyness for progress.

So I'll stop blabbing now and let you guys read. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

In his hand Ulquiorra held a notebook. It was nothing remarkable, a plain black cover with plain white pages, a bent corner, a few dates scribbled in the front. He had found it in the control room earlier, where he had been directed to give his report on the woman's health.

Even as he walked calmly through the halls, he could not brush off his unease. It was true that there did not appear to be any current use for the notebook, and he had not been given any specific orders against supplementing those items Orihime had originally been provided with. All the same, he knew, in the back of his mind, that this was something he should have inquired about before taking action.

He continued toward her room regardless, wishing to just be done with this task now that he had decided upon it. He did not want to have to figure out a way to explain why he had the notebook if somebody were to see him with it, so it was logical that he do what he could to divest himself of it as soon as possible.

As the only one in charge of her care, Ulquiorra should have been alone in that isolated portion of Las Noches; Orihime had been purposefully kept in a room far from the parts frequented by the other arrancar. All the same, that was no guarantee against seeing somebody as he made his way to her room. He knew how frequently the unspoken command to stay away from that area was disregarded.

And unfortunately, he had become well aware of why that was.

Presently, however, there was no reiatsu in the area that should not have been there. Opening the door silently, he surveyed the room, looking for her through the soft shadows. It only took a moment before his eyes fell upon the vivid splash of color where her hair fell over the edge of the couch.

As he closed the door behind him and entered the room, he was suddenly reminded of how early it must have been; she was asleep, breathing deep and even, features smoothed of all expression, all pretense. For a moment he stood by the couch, trying to decide if he should just leave the notebook there for when she awoke, but found himself scrutinizing her features instead. They were so… peaceful, he decided after a long moment. She had appeared at ease during their interactions over the past few months, even bringing smiles to her lips, but he had always noticed the line of tension that ran through her expression. But now there was none of that, and for some reason that made it seem the most unnatural. Such serenity should not have existed in that place.

His thoughts were interrupted when she suddenly shifted, brows drawing down for a swift moment before she slowly opened her eyes. She rubbed a hand against them and then lifted her gaze to his face, blinking rapidly to bring her sight into focus. "Ah, I thought it was your reiatsu," she murmured, voice soft with sleep. Clumsily, she sat up, clearly attempting to awaken fully. "Is it already time for breakfast?"

"No. It is still too early."

Ulquiorra watched the expressions filter across her face, the confusion that followed her acceptance eventually being replaced with curiosity. In a gesture he knew to be nothing more than a distraction, Orihime ran her fingers through her hair, trying to pat down the parts that had been mussed in sleep. "Then can I ask why you're here?"

He did not answer immediately, trying to think of how exactly he wished to approach this topic. "You have expressed dissatisfaction with the times between your meals."

Her gaze almost instantly fell to her lap. "I'm sorry if I did that. I did not mean to complain."

"Your apology is unnecessary." He watched her awkwardly weave her fingers together for a moment more before holding the notebook out.

She blinked, maybe with surprise. "What… is it?" she finally asked.

"I am sure it is not something unfamiliar to you."

"Oh, well yes, I do know what it is," she said quickly, a smile briefly crossing her features. "What I mean is what is it for?"

He looked away and did not reply until she finally took the notebook from his hand. "While you should be able to find ways to occupy your time without my intervention, perhaps you can entertain yourself with that. I will bring you something to write with later."

In the silence the followed, Ulquiorra dared to glance down at her out of the corner of his eye. Her head was bent as she looked at the notebook, flipping slowly through the pages, her face still visible. Emotion filtered across her features, such a range in such a short amount of time that it was almost dizzying and certainly puzzling to try to categorize them, to understand them.

It was frustrating, that even after all this time he had not been able to understand her. He had believed that he would have grown bored with her by this point, but he had hardly made any progress in discovering how all of her strange mannerisms and beliefs fit together.

Sometimes he wondered if he had approached the problem incorrectly. He had tried to rationalize her actions while thinking of her as no more than a human girl, but perhaps that was too much of a simplification. There was nothing about Orihime's situation that could be applied to any other living creature; she was a singular example, a case study. No human had been faced with the things she had, so there seemed to be a possibility that she would act in a way that he would not have expected from a normal human.

In any case, it was probably necessary to take into consideration the fact that her attachment to reality seemed to have become rather tenuous. Undoubtedly that should have changed how she was analyzed, but Ulquiorra did not know in what manner that difference should be handled. She was incredibly stable, and he figured that she truly was acting in a manner more consistent with her internal view of herself. In that way this make-believe she had requested was doing as she had predicted – her spirit had not shattered. Yet all the same, it was obvious that nothing had been done to maintain her grasp with reality. If anything, it seemed more likely that it was slowly being released, as though she had constructed her own interpretation of her existence and thereby no longer needed to acknowledge what was actually occurring.

Such a strange thing to do, but not as absurd as it had originally seemed. From what she said to what she did, it was clear that Orihime was trying to draw away from the things that hurt her. That was not such an odd notion once he had considered it, as it was a very basic instinct to try to avoid those situations that caused pain. But to take it to the point where what was actually around her could be completely ignored and overlooked was something much harder to make sense of.

At times, Ulquiorra had to wonder if he should stop her. It would be simple – he would have to do no more than mention the intelligence that had been obtained regarding her nakama, or the plans that were being laid out by Aizen. Shattering the illusions would take very little effort, much less than was necessary for him to allow her to maintain them, and then she would be firmly reminded of what she was really being faced with. Her depression would likely return, of course, but surely Syazel could find a way to remedy that. Such had to be healthier than what she was doing to herself now.

As reasonable as that would be, Ulquiorra was aware that he would not follow through with it. Finally looking away, he acknowledged that what had initially seemed to be no more than a passing curiosity had changed into a sort of unspoken challenge. Others had always been easy to classify and categorize, choices and habits betraying the fundamental pieces that built the core of their psyche. Understanding the nature of those elements was not necessary as long as he could clearly see the links that led to them. Yet he could not organize those things he knew about Orihime, could not see how the parts fit together, and he was not willing to stop without obtaining these answers.

But he was starting to realize the dangers that indulging himself in this produced, both for him as well as her.

He did not know if she was unaware of what he could do or if she had just chosen to pretend that such possibilities did not exist. Either way, she acted as though she was oblivious to the risks she embraced when she accepted his presence. Sometimes she spoke humbly, respectfully, topics and tone carefully tailored, other times with child-like enthusiasm or impassioned conviction, but always in such a human way, as though he were no more than any other man. To forget that such was not the case was certainly unwise.

And it wasn't prudent for him to allow her to overlook this pivotal truth, not when it had certain implications, certain consequences. Even now, with her mood free of any turmoil or fear, Ulquiorra could feel the ripples of her reiatsu as it flowed through the room. It was so liquid, gentle and unobtrusive as it pervaded everything, fluttering softly against his own in a way that was impossible to compare to anything else he could remember feeling.

Part of what made the difference was that her reiatsu was _warm_. It was not the cool electric pressure of the dead, of hollows or shinigami, but something that vividly reminded him of how very alive she was. That unto itself was not terribly interesting, however, as every human had it to some extent. What made it so unique was its strength, a feature that, judging by how she seemed to measure her worth, was completely unknown to her. But not to him; he was very well aware of how inescapably it filled that small room, raw and unrealized, keenly amplifying the differences between them.

Yes, she clearly did not know the danger of his company, of how the instincts he had pressed far back into his mind would resurface at times, of how he would almost wonder what it would be like to steal that intense warmth of hers. He had never made even the slightest move to give in to this particular urge; he had greater control over his impulses than that. All the same, that the thought had crossed his mind at all, that even a part of his consciousness was still governed by such instincts – the same ones that had drawn those lowly arrancars towards her – was unsettling enough.

He had hoped that time would have made it easier, allowed familiarity with her reiatsu to dull that repulsive desire, yet it remained as distinct as it had ever been. While it had not truly become any more difficult to resist than before, it almost seemed that the only effect time had really had was to make it more difficult to overlook. Those evenings when she managed to slip close, to lay her head against his shoulder, to curl her fingers into the fabric of his sleeve, had become no more bearable than they had been initially. The difference now was that he had come to understood what had been so acutely strange and uncomfortable about such situations.

Regardless of the difficulties, he had been able to ignore it and act as though her presence had no effect on him whatsoever. In the end his control would not waver unless he allowed it, no matter the effort required to maintain that façade. Ulquiorra had to admit the irony of this, for in avoiding one weakness he had been forced to accept another – he was learning what Orihime had truly meant when she spoke of pretending.

"Thank you."

He looked back at her, vaguely grateful to be able to consider something other than his current thoughts, and found her smiling at him. A light almost like the shine he had noticed when she had first come to Hueco Mundo, when she had still been determined and hopeful, again shown out of her soft gray eyes as she looked up at him. It was a brighter reaction that he had seen in quite some time.

"Your gratitude is misplaced; I brought it merely because I have grown tired of your complaints."

But his words did nothing to change her expression, and he found that he had not really expected them to. What was not expected, however, was when she reached out her hand for the one he had left at his side. He wished that he could pull back or move away, but such actions would be so obvious – and therefore something she would likely question him about – that they were not permissible. There was no option but to wait.

At least he had a moment to prepare for the searing heat that enveloped his hand; it was those occasions when she caught him at unawares that were the most dangerous. Her warmth through layers of fabric was one thing, but he had found that it was entirely different to contact it so directly, without any medium to dull its intensity. He focused carefully on her face and not the desire to snatch his hand away from hers.

"All the same, I am grateful."

Ulquiorra had nothing to say in return, instead waiting for that moment when she finally released him, allowing the tension that had knotted through him to dissolve. Almost instantly he turned toward the door. "I will return in a few hours with your breakfast. You should try to rest until then."

If she replied, he did not hear, still too distracted by the heat she had pressed into his hand. He shut the door behind him and began to walk towards his own domain, flexing his fingers for a moment before sliding them back into his pocket.

"Foolish," he said quietly, but for once he was unsure whether he was referring to her or to himself.

* * *

There was no other sound but the sliding of sand under their feet and the rustle of their clothes in the wind, but Orihime found that this sort of silence was not as oppressive as the one she usually endured. Lifting her gaze, she surveyed their surroundings, watching the white hills march into the darkness of the horizon. It was a landscape almost as colorless as the room she had been in for months, but she still found herself taking in everything she could see.

True, it was bleak and eerie, but she decided that there was a sort of austere beauty to it. The sand twinkled faintly under the wane light of the ever crescent moon, and the strange barren trees that dotted the horizon almost made her feel that she was looking at some winter scene. She had never had the chance to really look at Hueco Mundo before, too preoccupied with other concerns when she had first arrived and during the brief time after healing Kurosaki-kun. Since then, she had not seen anything else but the interior of Las Noches, and she had come to expect that such was all she would see.

But that morning Ulquiorra had informed her that he had received permission to allow her to spend an hour outside that day. She had been so surprised with the implications of _outside_ that his other words, that he had _received permission_, had not registered until much later. As unexpected and perplexing as it was, she could see no other way to interpret the phase than that he had made the request on her behalf.

Part of her wished desperately to ask him about it, but so far she had managed to hold her tongue. She tried to satisfy herself with the fact that whether her assumption was true or not was really of no consequence in the end. Besides, it seemed foolish to question him about something he had clearly shown no intention of elaborating upon. To have a real change to her surroundings, to see something other than blank white walls and slivers of sky, was more refreshing than she had guessed it would be, and she did not want to do anything that might diminish her chance of going out again. Satisfying her curiosity at the expense of this brief freedom was certainly not worth it.

She turned her face upward for a moment, again putting the question from her mind. In its place, she tried to see if she could perhaps find some color in the vast expanses of the sky, but suddenly felt herself lurch forward as her foot met an unexpected drop. Reaching forward, she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of an impact that did not come.

Slowly cracking open her eyes, Orihime's vision was filled with green. "I did not believe walking to be a complicated task, but if it is too difficult for you I will return you to your room."

It took a moment before she became aware of the pressure above her elbow, of each cool finger wrapped around her arm, and understood what had happened. Blinking away her surprise, she quickly regained her footing and shook her head. "No, I'll pay closer attention to where I'm going."

After a moment more, he released her and continued wordlessly, leaving her to once again trail after him like a shadow. She let the sigh that had somehow built up in her throat pass her lips, thankful that he was not going to stand there and monitor her. It would have been impossible to think if he did, and she suddenly found that she desperately needed to chance to do so.

Head bowed, Orihime replayed the scene again in her mind and decided that no, she had not been imagining it. For the second time in as many weeks, she had noticed something strange about Ulquiorra. Well, there had been an earlier occasion – when she had slapped him – but she had not recognized it at the time. Now that she was more familiar with his mannerisms, however, she recalled it, because it was the same as what had happened the previous week as well as just moments before.

It was in his eyes. She had always been focused on them, figuring that they were her best chance of seeing if anything existed behind his apathetic exterior. She had learned how easy it was to speak lies and force actions that were not really felt, but it was harder to force the same conviction into one's eyes; she was still terrified to look at Aizen on those occasions when she was summoned, aware that he could probably see through her instantly.

But Ulquiorra's eyes had always been as distant and unreadable as everything else about him. Nothing was betrayed in them, no flickers of emotion ever rippling his indifferent stare, but that had never meant that they were lifeless. She had become very sensitive to the focus and intensity behind them, the constant analysis in their weight when he looked at her. Initially that had almost been more frightening than finding nothing at all.

With time she had become used to that cool consideration, however, and she had almost made it a hobby to try to spot a flaw, some crack. If she had not made it such a habit, it was likely that she would have missed those two instances where something had changed. It had not been in the way she had always looked for, of something revealing itself. What she noticed was what had been missing – the focus.

It was like he had been distracted for the briefest moment, his attention pulling inward. It was just for an instant before it was gone, with no lingering effects to confirm that anything had actually occurred. That it was so short was of no really important, however, because it was the fact that it had happened at all that was the only thing really worth noting. After so many months of watching and waiting, it was the definite proof that there was more to him than he revealed.

While this discovery was almost comforting – she could be as convinced about his inner complexity as she liked, but it was hard to believe it when all the evidence had seemed to contradict it – it did nothing to explain him. She now knew that he was not as detached as he seemed, not so bound to those things that were strictly necessary, but that was all. In the end all it really did was give her more questions.

And having questions regarding Ulquiorra led her into a gray area that was uncomfortable at best.

Briefly, Orihime glanced up at him, her attention drifting from the subject of his thoughts to that of her own. She had noticed that her speculations about him seemed to happen with the greatest frequency whenever she was the most immersed in her imagination. There were fewer rules, fewer considerations, when she allowed herself to completely forget that anything else existed outside of her illusionary world, and the places where her mind wandered often seemed littered with strange, discomforting thoughts.

And the most recent of these to cross her mind was that Ulquiorra was kind. The observation had bubbled to the surface of her thoughts as she had made origami the week before, while waiting for him to return with a pen for her to write with. Once it had taken a coherent form, she had realized that it had been in the back of her mind for some time, since he had agreed to allow her to pretend. At random times since then, it had danced at the edges of her thoughts: when he had not simply pushed her away the first time she had rested her head against his shoulder, the few changes that had been made to the contents of her meals after she had rambled about her poorly understood culinary tastes, the discovery of a stack of blankets on the end of her sofa when she had asked him if he felt cold there, too.

Having such thoughts about him in an unrecognized manner was one thing; it was not threatening when it was not formed enough to be consciously considered. But to be faced with it so concretely was entirely different, because then there was no way to avoid it. How could she possibly think he was kind, regardless of those things he had done for her? Such actions would not have even been necessary if he had not taken her from her home, and just because he had never treated her cruelly did not mean that she could overlook the fact that he was more than capable of it.

Was it a betrayal, Orihime wondered, to allow herself to find some good in him? It was not something she had anticipated happening when she had started to walk that line between obtaining the comfort she longed for and remembering the true manner of their relationship, but perhaps she should have expected it. She did not see the world in absolutes, and to hate and despise had never been in her nature. To think that she would not look for something good in the one individual she saw regularly had obviously been a serious oversight.

Regardless of the effort and consideration she had put into the issue, she had not decided if she was wandering down a dangerous path or if there was no real harm in having thought something like that about Ulquiorra. She had tried to shrug it off for the most part, because she figured that her thoughts didn't make much difference. If the actions she found to be kind had only been executed as the conclusion of some logical thought process – which had really seemed most likely – there was no reason to be concerned. Now that she knew that he was not quite as unreachable as he made himself appear, she wondered if avoiding the question was really wise.

Frowning at the sand below her, Orihime crossed her arms. Too much thinking, too much analyzing. Every time she allowed herself to pick apart situations and comments, she only ended up becoming frustrated or unhappy, so why did she keep falling into the trap? She would find herself tearing apart the very thing she had worked so hard to construct if she was not careful.

She was so preoccupied with her considerations that it took her a moment to realize that she was no longer following Ulquiorra. Stopping abruptly, she turned around and found him standing a few yards away, and was surprised at the surge of relief she felt at this; she could almost physically feel the panic that had suddenly gripped her dissolve just as quickly.

"Why do you look so frightened?" he asked as she slowly walked back toward him.

"I thought that I had gotten lost," she replied reluctantly.

The things Orihime had been contemplating had already been making her feel foolish, and this incident was causing her to feel even more ridiculous, like a child who had wandered off in a store. The thought was cleanly wiped from her mind when he spoke again. "I would not allow that to happen."

She knew that she was just another responsibility, another duty; of course it would be in his best interest to ensure that nothing happened to her. All the same, the words seemed to chime in her head, because they pledged protection, and regardless of the vast differences in motive, she could not help but remember the last person who had made such assurances.

Ulquiorra had slipped a hand from his pocket and was now gesturing toward the ground. Orihime tried to decide if she should have realized what this meant or if she had missed some comment in the moment she had braced herself for the pain of remembering Kurosaki-kun.

"You may sit, if you need to rest before we return to Las Noches."

Nodding absently, she carefully sat in the sand near him as she attempted to understand why the feeling of loss had only ached, so much weaker than it had been on those past occasions when her memories touched back too far. She wrapped her arms around her legs and stared out at the horizon in silence. Perhaps she was still too distracted by the other issues she had yet to resolve? Maybe she was finally allowing the knowledge that he was safe to counteract the weight of her regrets?

When the quiet became too oppressive because of how easy it made it to ponder things she would rather ignore, she turned her head to look up at her guard. "Aren't you tired, Ulquiorra-san?"

"No," he replied.

For a moment, she toyed with the fabric of her sleeve. "Do you want to sit anyway?"

He now glanced down at her, and Orihime surprised herself by being able to hold his gaze until he sat beside her, resting his arms over his knees. Watching him, she decided that it was rather strange to see him look so casual; even when he had his hands in his pockets, something about him always remained rigid, tense.

Regardless with its strangeness – or perhaps because of it – she found that she liked the change. The markers of the differences between them were mostly hidden at the moment: his jacket was zipped beneath his chin, covering the hollow hole she had seen on occasion, and at that angle she could glimpse little of what remained of his mask. All this suddenly made him look more human that he ever had before, and she felt questions crowd her mind until he suddenly turned toward her.

For an instant, she almost felt that she was looking at somebody else. The severe shadows that would fall across his face in the darkness of her room were diminished by the light reflecting off the sand, making her notice that his features were much softer than she had believed them to be. As the wind tousled his hair away from his face, her breath caught as she was struck by just how _young_ he really looked – he could not have been many years older than her when he died.

"You are being quieter than I expected."

The sound of his voice jarred her thoughts enough that she could breathe again, but it took a few more seconds before she could completely shake free from her surprise. "I am?" she asked, looking forward so that she could attempt to think clearly.

"Something is bothering you," he stated after a short pause, but it was a comment laced with queries.

Closing her eyes, Orihime decided that it was unfair that he had learned to read her so easily. What she wouldn't give to have that talent since coming to Hueco Mundo, to be able to see past any pretense or evasion. What good was it that he had this skill, that he could make such observations about a person's emotions when he would not understand them?

She didn't have to see him to know that he was waiting for a response; she needed to confirm the unspoken question that there was nothing unsatisfactory about her condition that he could remedy. It had happened before countless times, and she had quickly learned where the boundaries lay – issues regarding her physical condition would be arranged, as part of Aizen's orders that she be treated as a guest, but everything else was at Ulquiorra's discretion. She had decided early on, however, that she would try to not press him about such things; he already provided more assistance than she had ever expected to receive.

But with her thoughts fluttering wildly, from both the issues that had become impossible to avoid over the past week and this sudden alteration to the way she had always envisioned him, Orihime found it hard to come up with a simple response. "It's really nothing," she finally started, feeling the pattern slowly coming back to her. "I've been thinking too deeply, I guess. Well, obviously I have, or else I wouldn't have almost fallen earlier!"

"About what?"

She had not expected him to reply, and certainly not to ask her about what she had said. Precedents broken, she glanced at him, but his eyes were again turned forward, leaving her to slowly piece together her answer. "Just that it's been nice to be outside, even nicer than I had expected. I didn't really think I would have the chance."

While receiving no response at this point was not surprising, the quiet nonetheless begged to be filled. The question at the back of her mind readily supplied itself, and even though she tried to think of something else, Orihime resigned herself to that fact that she would ask. It was merely a matter of time before the words tumbled out in a rush. "Why was this allowed?"

"It seemed advisable that you be granted time outside of your quarters," he said tonelessly, a perfectly reasonable and detached explanation.

"Ah," she started quietly, knowing that his answer had been worded to avoid revealing the one piece of information she really wished to know. "So were you the one who asked Aizen-sama?"

The silence was longer this time, and she wondered if she had perhaps pushed too far before Ulquiorra finally spoke. "Yes."

It was a strange reaction considering that she had already guessed his answer, but Orihime could not stop herself from smiling. If she mentioned anything further about it, he would no doubt tell her that it was only part of his duties and nothing more. Yet all the same, this logic that had always worked before could not prevent the sudden wash of gratitude and happiness she felt. She had spent so much time in that room without any serious effects that the reason for the outing could not have been just for her physical wellbeing. While she was not willing to even speculate as to why he had made the request, he clearly had his _own_ reasons for having done so, and that was enough.

In the hazy contentment that had slid through her, she figured that it would be easy to lean up and kiss his cheek; she was certainly sitting close enough, and it wasn't too much of a jump from having held his hand when she said her thanks the week before, was it? Vaguely she knew that it was a ludicrous idea, but she could not help but wonder how he would react, or if he would react at all. So before she could convince herself of the utter stupidity of her actions, she tilted her head up towards his and closed the space between them.

But with a shock that trickled down her spine like ice, Orihime found herself staring into his eyes as her lips pressed softly against the corner of his mouth. It was awkward, her head bent back a little too far and his nose brushing against her cheek, but she felt frozen under that stare. The intensity of it so close made her feel trapped, cornered like some foolish animal that had strayed right into the path of a predator. Yet when for the briefest moment he tipped his head, changing the angle so that their lips met more fully, her wild anxiety changed into something else entirely.

And then it was suddenly over.

There was nothingness now where Ulquiorra had been sitting, and she sluggishly attempted to understand what had happened, what would happen. Her heart started to pound belatedly, shuddering in her chest with the press of a hundred emotions she found impossible to identify as she slowly realized the magnitude of what had occurred.

She blinked, took a deep breath, and looked over her shoulder to where he was standing, a dozen yards away. Shakily, she forced herself to rise to her feet, knowing that he was waiting even though he had not spoken, and felt both disappointment and relief when he wordlessly began to walk back towards Las Noches the moment she stood. He never looked back to see if she was still following, or to see if she had even been following at all, but she knew why and it was making everything in her imaginary world start to crumble apart.

His eyes had finally betrayed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Well, with all the drama and whatnot within the fandom right now, it seemed like it could be a good time to post the conclusion to the story. It doesn't hurt that I'd really like to be doing anything other than studying at the moment, either…

So yes, sappiness ahoy. Hopefully that won't bother anybody haha. Anywho, a big thank you to everybody has reviewed. I do appreciate it uber much, and I hope that you will all enjoy this final chapter.

* * *

Five minutes.

The seconds continued to slide by, each one bringing Ulquiorra inexorably closer to that point in the evening when he would be forced to leave his domain. He would retrieve the servant, who would be waiting with the evening meal, from the kitchens. He would walk to the remote corner of Las Noches while ensuring that no others had gone there after his departure that afternoon. He would enter the woman's room, listen to her fluttering attempts at conversation, note how much she ate after being given her dinner, and then leave.

He would. This time, he really would.

While he rose, fighting off the strangely heavy feeling that wished to keep him in his seat, he acknowledged his own cynicism concerning this topic. After all, he had had similar plans each day for the past week, but had not once successfully adhered to them.

It was only recently that he began to accept why that was. At first he had believed that if he did not acknowledge it, if he continued as he had before, that perhaps he could avoid truly grasping what had happened that afternoon outside of Las Noches. As the days continued to slide by, however, he had slowly realized that it would be impossible to avoid recognizing the things he had felt hovering at the edge of his thoughts.

He had been mistaken. His assumptions, his conclusions, had all been wrong, flawed from the very beginning, and because of that he had never once noticed the threat that had lingered in his every interaction with that woman, waiting for just the smallest catalyst to allow it to take shape. And now it was too late to undo the damage.

Ulquiorra silenced his thoughts as he arrived at the kitchens, returning his focus to his duties. There would be time for him to consider his own concerns once his responsibilities had been seen to, although the peace in the detached monotony of this routine had become almost welcome in place of the confusion he lately seemed to feel.

No traces of reiatsu could be found in the halls, and he arrived at the door to Orihime's room without distraction. He knocked sharply at it, hardly pausing before opening it and stepping into the shadows immediately within. He carefully ignored the faint slide of discomfort that ran through his chest; it had developed into such a common occurrence that simply disregarding it was becoming easy.

Orihime was already sitting at the table, posture rigid as she turned her head to look at him. As the servant entered and set the dishes out, her lips pulled up in something that might have been a smile if it had held any happiness, and once they were alone she greeted him with a cheerfulness that instantly revealed her unease.

For a moment, he stood there at the doorway, prepared to tell her to eat and then wait while she did so. He took a breath, feeling the words at the back of his throat, before reaching out to shut the door. As he slipped his hand back into his pocket, he found it disappointing, but not surprising, that he then slowly made his way toward her.

With those few steps revealing that he was staying, Orihime turned back to her meal and began to reorganize the dishes, making pointless comments about the preparation and ingredients as he sat in the chair next to her. Her focus was now directed completely on her meal, as it would be for the remainder of the time he was there. While it had been a somewhat puzzling habit that she had recently adopted, Ulquiorra admitted that he was thankful for it. It gave him the opportunity of observing her without the risk of being questioned about it.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, watching her as she excessively fussed with her food. He followed the fluttery movements of her hands, the way the frail light ran down the length of her hair as she moved, how she softly pursed her lips.

There was a pause before he briefly closed his eyes and managed to look away. Even after he turned his gaze up to the window high upon the wall, the memory that was triggered continued to trickle in, each minute detail as painfully clear as they had been in the moment she had kissed him.

It had changed everything. That something so insignificant, so unremarkable, could have such dramatic consequences would have been unimaginable to him unless he had experienced the changes himself. What was so special about a kiss, about touching one's lips to those of another? It was just the contact of flesh, so why was it so different from when she had touched his hand? There was really no compelling reason to have thought that there would be a difference in his response.

But there had been. That had been the instant when Ulquiorra realized how little his reactions to her had to do with the fact that he was a hollow. It was true that he would not have been so keenly aware of her reiatsu otherwise, but the pang that had grown increasingly impossible to ignore, the ache that always seemed to flair the closer she was, had no connection with any instinctual draw he might have felt. His hunger for her had not been like that at all.

It was difficult to accept the irrational idea that he could feel something from a time when he had been alive; while self-awareness might have been retained as a Menos, memories were not. If he was not able to remember anything before being a hollow, how could he feel something that he knew could be nothing but a lingering vestige of having been human?

But regardless of how unfathomable it had seemed, Ulquiorra had _known_ almost the instant her lips touched his. This desire had not been what a hollow felt toward a human, but what a man felt for a woman. It was improbable, impossible, but undeniable. All the strange things he had done in regards to her that he had not been able to comprehend had suddenly made sense in that moment. Why he so often found his eyes drawn to her for no other reason than to watch her, why he had found such satisfaction on those occasions that he could make her happy, why he had felt so on edge whenever she touched him… as disjointed as these things had seemed before, he now saw the common thread that ran through them all.

Yet while he acknowledged that he felt something for her, that did not mean that he had any understanding of what it truly was. In the span of his memories, there was nothing that had prepared him to grasp the full nature of this, no recollection to let him know what it meant or what to do.

Perhaps it was because of the fact that he possessed no knowledge regarding these matters that it had happened. There had been no reason to suppose that this would be the outcome of his actions. The evolution from seeing her as no more than a human woman with some interesting powers to the inexplicable things that he felt stir whenever he was around her had been the slow work of months. The shift had been so gradual that he had not even noticed its occurrence.

And even if Ulquiorra had noticed a change, it probably would have made no difference. His conclusions that he felt nothing more than an unusually strong pull to her reiatsu would have been the most likely explanation under those circumstances as well. This result seemed as though it had been inevitable from the moment he had felt the slightest curiosity about her.

Everything about the situation was puzzling and strange, yet even more than that it was frustrating. He glanced at Orihime, who was still picking at her meal, and fought the wave of irritation that rose within him. That he could feel like this at all was wrong, useless and unwanted as it was. But what made it worse was that while he struggled with all these things, Orihime appeared to be largely unaffected.

That sentimental human girl, who had worn her emotions so clearly that they were like an emblem, continued to attempt to act as she had before. It was not true that she had not reacted at all; her embarrassment had been quite evident in both that brief moment and every instant that had passed since. In that silent, colorless room, he had noted every blush that fanned across her cheeks when he entered and every weary sigh that passed her lips when he left. Yet that was all it seemed to be, and something as superfluous as a bit of discomfort at a memory was hardly a comparison to the complete disproval of things he had taken as facts.

She looked up now, having pushed the few scattered remains of her meal to the center of her plate, and again gave him that unconvincing smile. "I'm finished, Ulquiorra-san," she said, allowing her hands to drop to her lap. "I'm sorry that I'm so slow; it's probably boring for you to wait."

Regardless of the politeness, her comment was so casual, so forcefully relaxed. Again, Ulquiorra felt the pulse of frustration. It was so obvious now, the additional act she had started. He had not perceived it immediately, those first days so full of his own considerations that he had noticed little outside of the sphere of his thoughts, but now he was aware of the slight alterations. She was pushing what had happened from her mind, pretending as she had with so many other things that the kiss had never occurred. She would leave him to feel any changes alone.

And he suddenly found, as he looked into her wide eyes, that he did not want to be the only one who felt pressed with questions that he did not have answers to. He wanted to tear away the curtains she had drawn around herself to block out anything she did not wish to consider, wanted her to experience the confusion and uncertainty with the same intensity that was inflicted upon him. While he may have foolishly allowed her too much freedom, it was nonetheless _her_ actions with that freedom that had led them to this point. He would not allow her to step back now.

With more decisiveness than he had felt for the past week, Ulquiorra rose and walked around the table so that he stood at her side. Watching the obvious surprise that flickered across her features, he realized just how carefully they had been maintaining the distance between them as he crossed it.

It was uncomfortable for him to be so close to her, but he was still mildly surprised by how quickly Orihime's unease overwhelmed her; it was only a handful of moments before she suddenly pushed her chair away from the table and stood. "Well there are probably things you need to do," she said, clasping her hands behind her as she smiled distractedly, her weight shifting back on her heels. "I don't want you to miss something important."

His pause before replying was very brief. "There is just one thing that is presently of importance."

"Oh?" she breathed, a touch of relief in her expression. "I guess this is goodnight then?"

"No."

Confusion flashed in Orihime's eyes as she finally looked up at him. "What?"

"I am not leaving yet." He took a step forward, closing the distance she had tried to create moments before. "I will understand this first."

She opened her mouth to speak, probably to say that she did not know what he meant or to ask him to explain himself, but Ulquiorra had passed the point where speech was sufficient. So in that moment, with her face tipped up towards his, he leaned down and kissed her.

* * *

It had not been until that instant that Orihime realized what a complete prison her room truly was. She had always known that there was no way for her to leave – the window was too high and the door too heavy – but she now saw that her constraints were not limited only to those physical barriers.

Even within her own mind, it was impossible to find any sanctuary. The heavy silence pressed against her ears until she could only hear the increased pounding of her heart, and the white walls and black shadows around her offered no distraction from Ulquiorra's vivid green eyes. Everything seemed to force her attention on what she was desperate to overlook.

Orihime could feel it in the shiver she could not suppress when his fingers sank into her hair, in the fact that his cool touch somehow managed to make her feel warmer than before. Shock flooded her mind, but rather than stemming from embarrassment as it had before, this came from the race of emotions that slid through her. They wrapped around her heart and squeezed, drawing out things she could not even explain, that made her want to cry and laugh all at once.

It would all stop if she could just do something as simple as turning her head or stepping back, anything to break the kiss. It would be easy, even with Ulquiorra's hand now resting at the nape of her neck; its weight was hardly more than a half touch, as though he could not quite bring himself to hold her completely. Her instincts screamed for her to move, to realize the utter vulnerability of her situation, and her conscience reminded her of her nakama and the war and how this was wrong, how this could never be rationalized or overlooked.

Yet even with all these things clamoring in her head, all Orihime could truly notice was how badly she wanted to kiss him back. Against the knowledge of how effortlessly he could destroy her was the softness he displayed in pressing his lips to hers, and it was disturbingly easy to counter the concern regarding her nakama when they were not there.

The hand she had clenched before her uncurled until it lay against his chest, her fingers trembling between pushing him away and pulling him closer. It was only when his other hand slid around her waist and gently drew her to him that she felt the ability to choose slip away, the decision made.

Her thoughts were silenced as she finally gave in, closing her eyes before tilting back her head. At first every movement was slow, cautious, but the hesitance soon dissolved as she felt the kindling of whatever had rested in her heart for the past week. It did not burn or flare but smoldered like embers, melting through the pretenses and the illusions she had created until she was left with nothing but realities. And for a moment, it was not as frightening as she had thought it would be.

But then she moved the hand resting upon his chest upward, and she felt the sudden give in the jacket's fabric as her fingers passed over his hollow hole. Ulquiorra instantly froze, and in the sudden stillness the fragile moment shattered. The warmth that had insulated her from considering repercussions and consequences dissolved, leaving cold understanding to flood her thoughts.

It was difficult to move, but somehow Orihime managed to press the heels of her hands against him. He allowed her to pull away, making no attempt to stop her escape from the arms she knew could have effortlessly trapped her. As she stepped back on unsteady feet, he merely watched her, eyes flashing with a shocking intensity in a face that was as unreadable as ever.

She wanted desperately to look away or say something, anything that would take some measure of his focus from her, but she felt too cornered and confused under his gaze to do anything but blink. She wondered how he could look so casual and unruffled, even then returning his hands to his pockets, when she still felt the heat spreading across her face and her heart thundering against her ribs.

Each beat seemed to bring with it another thought, like the relentless pounding of the incoming tide. What would her friends say? How would they look at her if they knew what she had just done? She shuddered and gripped the fabric at her sides. There was no way to overlook what had happened this time, not when she had so easily and completely given in. Her first kiss, and she had given it to an enemy.

Orihime thought about orange hair and brown eyes, about the one she had always hoped to give that kiss to. It had never been very likely – Kurosaki-kun's focus was constantly on those things he now saw as his responsibilities – yet that had not stopped her from wishing all the same. It had only been when she knew she would have to remain there that she had tucked that desire away, folding it with her feelings for him and her nakama into a little corner of her heart, where it would not constantly remind her of what she had left behind.

Perhaps she had done too well in keeping her memories away, in avoiding the pain that came with every recollection. It could have served as a reminder, could have kept a wall around her emotions and thoughts so that new things could not slip in and grow unchecked in her heart. Perhaps it could have kept her from suddenly feeling that she truly was a traitor.

"What do you see?"

The question was sudden and unexpected, halting the frantic thoughts crowding her mind and reminding her again of the present, of the situation that was still unfolding. "What do you mean?" she whispered in a voice too soft for the room, although how she had managed to speak at all escaped her.

"Is everything still as imaginary as you claimed, or did that effect you in some real way?"

Just as she had managed to escape the shock, it was like he was once again forcing it before her. "Why does it matter?" she asked, fighting to ignore the question even as it seemed to still echo in her ears.

"Because I will no longer indulge you. I am tired of wasting my time on an illusion." Ulquiorra's usually steady eyes wavered for a moment over the features of her face before he looked away, and Orihime felt something inside her crumble as she realized that he might not have been as calm as he appeared. "It is therefore necessary for me to know the nature of how you view such things."

"I still don't understand." But somehow she did.

"That is unimportant," he replied, finally looking at her again so that she felt pinned under the obvious command in his eyes. "You only need to answer."

Orihime continued to look up at him, and she was surprised at all the things she could suddenly see. It was faint, barely discernable, but she noticed the touch of confusion, the uncertainty, behind the demand, and she suddenly was sure that this all weighed more heavily upon him than he betrayed. It twisted again at that part of her heart that was already bruised from his kiss, and she realized that her attempts at make-believe would no longer be able to protect her.

That had been its only function, and Orihime had never considered it any deeper since slipping into that routine. To question it was to pull away from the safety in seeing things as she wished to see them and to make herself vulnerable to the pain again, so there had been no reason to take such risks. If something strange happened, or if some uncomfortable thought crossed her mind, she found ways to weave it into the illusion until it was no longer threatening.

At first, it had been for nothing more than to keep her thoughts from her loneliness, to help buoy herself above the flood she had slowly been drowning under. To do so, she had reached for the company of the one person she saw, her one chance for interaction. It had perhaps been a foolish choice, but it had not been illogical; there had been no other options.

It had shifted the nature of their relationship and forced her to look at him differently. Orihime had been aware of the change, but only at its most superficial level; such observations had been dismissed almost the instant they were made. Now, as she looked back, she realized that those things she had felt for him had taken the place that her loneliness had previously held, becoming the threat that she had unconsciously fought to protect herself from.

Anything that might have made her notice what was occurring in her heart had instantly been diverted and changed to prevent the necessity of questioning, of analyzing. The alteration had been slow, as slow as the shift of her feelings, but it had eventually led to the game of make-believe existing solely to allow her to overlook her reactions to him – if everything she did was not truly real, then what she felt must have simply been part of the ruse as well.

What was now sliding through her veins, though, was definitely not imagined. It had been invading her thoughts for the past week, picking at the fraying edges of her false world even while Orihime had desperately tried to hold everything together. She had told herself that whatever she had felt in her heart and whatever she had seen in his eyes during that moment had been inconsequential, that it really could not change things that much.

Yet it obviously had. He had stripped away the last threads of her defense, pulling the blindfold from her eyes so that she now saw everything under the painful glare of reality.

She knew she could have retreated from it, difficult as it might have been, if she could say that she was the only one who felt the effects. But that flicker of confusion in his eyes had instantly revealed that his actions weren't simply the result of some detached curiosity, that she was not alone in feeling _something_. Knowing that, it would be impossible to attempt to go back to how things had been, and she felt herself resign to the path she knew she would now tread.

Orihime did not have any explanations to offer, and she did not know what the next step was. Everything was still too new for her to completely understand what she felt, to put names to the strange emotions that slid through her heart as she looked at him. It would be like stumbling in the dark from that point, but she at least had an answer.

She finally lifted her gaze from where it had dropped to the floor, almost surprised to find Ulquiorra still waiting, silent and immovable while she had tried to untangle her thoughts. Everything felt so awkward as their eyes met again, the silence that had been allowed to settle like a chasm between them.

Yet she knew it was not impossible to cross it, and she took a deep breath, bracing, before cautiously raising her hand. It was strange that after all those times she had carelessly touched him, letting her fingers hesitantly brush across his cheek now was so different. "You," she finally murmured, her hand slowly fall back to her side. "I see you."

For a moment Ulquiorra made no sign, and she wondered if that was enough, if he would understand the meaning behind the words, before something about his features softened slightly. If Orihime had not been waiting for a reaction, she knew she would not have noticed; in that room, full of shadows, it would have been easy to dismiss something so subtle.

But she did notice, and she felt the significance it silently conveyed. Irrepressibly, she felt her lips pull up in her first real smile in months, even as she acknowledged all the difficulties and consequences that this moment entailed. There would be trials before them, and yet there was the fact that it would not be alone, and it would not be with eyes closed. It would be together, wherever that led.

And that meant everything.


End file.
